If Slytherins Could Kill
by 3zioand5ofia
Summary: REQUEST FROM YOUTUBE CHANNEL (TheFireyHair) After the funeral of my school nemesis, Carys Jacksman, one question was buzzing round my head like a gnat: why was HE there? (Scorpius/OC)
1. Chapter 1

I was never too friendly with Carys Jacksman.

If anything we were two polar opposites. There was me with my razor-sharp attitude, my tendency to bend rules to suit my liking and forever hearing the Hogwarts teachers groan upon hearing my name. Then there was Carys: rich in exemplary grades, a cheesy smile forever tattooed on her face and never daring to anger the teachers.

Such a pathetic mess. The angelic little Mudblood's name was all that ever sounded from the teachers' lips.

"Carys Jacksman? Oh, yes! Such a good child. Never puts a toe out of line, does little Carys! Carys, the star of the Astronomy Tower...not to mention her skilled hand at Potions! _Carys_ this, _Carys_ that, _Carys, Carys, Carys."_

"Gabriella Zabini?" they would spit. "Handful of trouble. A wild dragon on the loose! I tell you now, she has the tongue of a serpent. It shows in every spiteful word she says!"

She and I got off on the wrong foot on the train, day one. What happened was a rather ugly and vicious event that ended up with her thinking: _I'm not going near that girl,_ and me thinking: _For god's sake, I hope she's not in my house!_ I hated every dirty drop of blood that circulated her body. The circulation I wanted so badly to pacify...or at least, that was what it seemed.

Until Peeves beat me to it.

* * *

The soft wind blew across the spotty meadow, where bees buzzed from flower to flower and flies danced in the breeze. The grass was dappled with the late morning dew and tiny dots of pollen. But these were barely notable...well, not from the distance I stood.

Clutching a bunch of velvety purple flowers, I walked across the meadow. My black shoes squelched against the drying dew. The silk of my long black dress swished against the grass like Death's Cloak.

_Death._ Not something I wanted to be thinking about. But at a funeral it is the _only_ thing one thinks about.

Memories were already latching themselves on my mind as I walked.

_Am I supposed to smile reminiscently or cry? Because I feel nothing._  
_Who will be there? Oh god, I won't have to endure any more spiteful stares, will I?_

The chapel spire emerged from the bushes as I came closer. The metal glistened in the diluted morning sunlight. The sun was playing peekaboo behind some clouds above the spire. Being an English summer, I doubted very much that I'd see much more of it. I groaned.

_This won't be much fun. Why am I even going to Carys' funeral, anyway?_

No doubt her death had aroused countless soppy emotions among the Ravenclaws, teachers and even ghosts. But the Slytherins were the only ones unaffected. We sat sombre through it all. But anyone could've discovered her body. Why did it have to be me? Why did I have to be in the wrong place at the wrong time? When I saw Carys spread-eagled on the ground I had wondered. I'd thought her just to be jinxed on the bathroom floor. Not that I cared, anyway.

I lifted up my dress and clambered over the rusty old gate at the end of the field. Now the the spire was hidden behind some oak trees: I was almost directly underneath the church itself now.

Gravestones appeared behind low-hanging branches in neat rows as I walked. Yellow moss crept up the ones that crumbled like powdered chalk; flowers in bouquets were placed beside the polished new stones. Even as I turned the corner I could hear a low babble of voices coming from the other side of the church.

So Carys Jacksman was here. Kind of.

Several familiar faces in black dress robes stood by the entrance of the church, carrying lace handkerchieves, murmuring in low, wobbly tones and huddling together in groups. I could make out the faces of many seventh-year Ravenclaws and Professors McGonagall, Slughorn, Hagrid, Flitwick and Sprout. The rest were unfamiliar to me; they just added to the sea of black lace before my eyes. _Muggles._

But that was when I saw him. The one person that made my pupils widen in surprise.

_Wh-what? Am I hallucinating?_

There he stood, white as pastry, tiny blond hairs emerging from his elf-chin, feather-blue eyes staring at the ground.

_What is he doing here?_

It was Scorpius Malfoy.


	2. Chapter 2

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is a request from my YouTube Channel. If you have any requests please either review this story, or comment on my channel!**

** user/supersis77**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

If there was one person who loathed Carys Jackman more than I did, it was Scorpius Malfoy.

So why was he here? It didn't make sense.

His head turned slowly upwards. Was it my imagination, or did I feel my throat drying as those flawless blue eyes drank me in? The pupils grew in surprise. They were clear as crystal, even from the shade of the tree he stood under.

"Gabriella Zabini," he breathed.

"Scorpius..." I hurried up to him, ducking under the tree's low branches. "What are you doing here?" I whispered.

He glanced around nervously, as if to check that nobody was listening. But the surrounding crowd continued to sob into their hankies. "What are you doing here?" he hissed.

I shrugged. "I found Carys' body, didn't I? Be stupid not to come."

He dipped his pointed head. "Fair enough. I know what you mean."

"Why are you enduring this?" I cut straight to the chase.

Behind us an organ warbled inside the church. It was role-call to all dear to Carys (or, in our case, enemies to her). A sea of black lace headed for the entrance.

"I'll tell you after the ceremony," Scorpius whispered, the flawless eyes flicking away. He, too, turned to enter the church. He indicated for me to follow. I groaned.

_Great. This is going to be hell._

* * *

I waited until everyone had left the church. The organ continued to blare out its depressing tune; Muggles continued to sob silently. A swish of people standing up in unison meant that it was time to get out of here. But not yet.

Like a shoal of black fish the crowd (politely) wrestled themselves out. But not Scorpius. He stayed sat in the pew in front of me. I swallowed hard as his sapphire eyes met my own.

"Now can we talk?" I asked.

He held a finger up to stop me. "Outside."

_Why is he so goddamn mysterious?_  
_I'm a Slytherin. I like mysterious._

Obediently I stood and squeezed my way through the slimming crowd. Carys' coffin was already outside, ready to be buried. Why did I say that so chirpily, you ask? Well...simple as this: did I want this to happen to goody-goody Carys Jacksman? No, I did not. But with her safely underground, all my troubles in life were over.

* * *

The ceremony was short, rustic and...well, generally Muggle-ish. Carys' family and friends were mostly Muggles, so no magic tricks were allowed. Though I was so tempted to whip out my wand and say: 'Silencio' to all the soppy people. The crying was becoming rather tedious.

When at last everyone left, I approached Scorpius once more. Was it just my imagination, or was it becoming ever-trickier to get close to him? I said that all my troubles were over. But something deep down told me they weren't.

_Get a grip_, I told myself. _It's just Scorpius. You've known him for ages. _

"All right," he sighed, "you got me. Fancy talking about this somewhere else?"

"Eh?" I asked, confused.

"How about in the Three Broomsticks? I could do with a Butterbeer after all that."

_Oh_, I realised, _he means disaparating._ "Um...alright."

Silence. I stared at his super-soft hands. Would I really have to hold them and not be afraid?_ It's just a hand,_ I told myself.

OK, I ought to explain: ever since I first joined Hogwarts I had a crush on Scorpius. It was quite secret, though. Eventually I found that I was being ridiculously immature and dropped the whole Scorpius wagon. Though our fathers _were_ friends. We spent a lot of time together in the holidays. Getting to know him better was one thing...talking to him at school was another. So due to this, I was always a little on-off with my crush.

At this moment in time, I thought I was 'off'.

"Hello? Gabriella?"

"Yes?"

_Whoops. Have I been daydreaming for that long?_

"Come on. Take my hand."

"Oh, right! Sorry." I held out a slightly trembling hand. Scorpius accepted it and squeezed it tightly, also forcing the air from my lungs.

_Get a grip!_

A wave of his wand; a sudden feeling of zero-gravity, then being sucked into a whirlpool like a speck of dust.

The graveyard disappeared.


End file.
